The end of this—
wasteland gravestones,
eviction rows, infection rolls,
grifter’s golden warrant.
Bitches hunt for scapegoats,
bastards sneering babble,
embassy envoy’s Christian riddles,
Priests of Egypt,
refugee evangelicals,
red-cloaked Roman cardinals
remark upon it.
The famous, dying, are
relieved to consent,
bear down with last witness.
Letters of marque rescinded,
privateers clear the seas.
Allies unite, enemies
decline the attack.
A mission to the Harbor Colony
incinerates the lynching tree,
ashes washed in tide’s capture.
Stubborn summer rains recede.
Capitol streets recovered from rubble,
faith and farm fields revive.
Early in a new year’s evening,
cold shadows creep the ivy walls,
three planets are called in alignment.
This end, these cleared skies
allow their sighting.

R.T. Castleberry, a Pushcart Prize nominee, has work in Dissident Voice, Vita Brevis, As It Ought To Be, Trajectory, Silk Road, StepAway, and The River. Internationally, he's had poetry published in Canada, Wales, Ireland, Scotland, France, New Zealand, Portugal, India, the Philippines and Antarctica. Read other articles by R.T..